


mijo

by astralscrivener



Series: modern au: squad up universe [16]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Keith/Lance (Voltron), Family, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) Has Anxiety, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 01:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14273592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralscrivener/pseuds/astralscrivener
Summary: set between chapters 114 and 115 ofsquad up.“Mijo,” the voice says, gentle, and something in Keith relaxes. He doesn’t jerk away, and he doesn’t move so quickly that he nearly gives himself whiplash. He eases himself closer to the floor and turns, and sees Mrs. McClain kneeling behind him, concern etched into her features.The person who comforts Keith throughthisanxiety attack isn't the one he expected.





	mijo

**Author's Note:**

> i posted something in an author note on another oneshot that i don't think anyone really paid close enough attention to
> 
> if you wanna sleuth it out before you read this (although it'll probably be obvious now) it was in one of the author notes on [decisions, decisions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14021439)
> 
> anyway i made myself cry writing this, have fun

            Keith leans against the entryway in one of the empty dens of the Altea mansion and counts his breaths, chest heavy. Taking in air is a chore and it shouldn’t be, but here he is anyway. He clutches his shirt, knots the fabric in his fist, tugs it away from his skin like it’s suffocating him. His ears ring, and vision swims. Distantly, he can hear the other partygoers chatting and wants to sigh in relief—no one seems to have notice he’s slipped away from the scene, even though he’s one of the four people this party is for.

            But he can’t sigh in relief, because he _can_ _’t fucking breathe._

            Footsteps sound in the hall and Keith slides further along the wall, toward the corner of the den, and hopes no one will take the time to look too deeply into the room for him. The need for air is overwhelming and Keith suppresses the urge to gasp. If he can just hold out for a few seconds—

            He stumbles.

            He stumbles over something near the floor—a wire, probably—and pitches forward, and barely catches himself on the back of a couch. He lets out a strangled cry and chokes on the little air he’s managing to get to his lungs. With the support of the couch, he makes it to his knees, and can’t find it within himself to get back to his feet. He doesn’t really have the time, either, because whoever’s come after him has a steady hand on his back.

            He expects Lance, at first. They read each other like open books, and if Keith’s slipped away from the party, then Lance should’ve taken notice and at least come to check up on him. But Keith quickly comes to understand, when he reconnects with his sense of touch, that it’s not his boyfriend. The hand on his back is too light—almost hesitant, because they don’t know how to hold him. They haven’t coaxed him out of anxiety attacks before.

            “Mijo,” the voice says, gentle, and something in Keith relaxes. He doesn’t jerk away, and he doesn’t move so quickly that he nearly gives himself whiplash. He eases himself closer to the floor and turns, and sees Mrs. McClain kneeling behind him, concern etched into her features.

            “Uh—Mrs. McClain—”

            She shakes her head immediately, and Keith shuts his mouth. She gets back to her feet, slowly, and then offers a hand down to help him up. He takes it, and she guides him around the couch, to the other side. She sits, pats the spot next to her, and Keith obliges. She clasps his hand tighter, and puts another on his back.

            “Everything’s okay,” she murmurs in a way that tells Keith it’s not her first panic attack she’s had to assuage. “Take deep breaths, Keith.”

            She doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t pass judgment. She sits with Keith while he nods, blinks to clear his vision, waits for the dark spots to go away, inhales deeply and wills himself to get it together. The tightness in his chest won’t leave, though, and soon enough, Keith starts hyperventilating. Mrs. McClain squeezes his hand, murmurs something in Spanish that Keith can’t translate through the haze in his brain, rubs circles in his back.

            Whatever she’s saying, it’s soft and slow, and sounds almost like a lullaby. Keith nods, and he’s not even sure what he’s nodding at. Words of encouragement he doesn’t even hear, probably. He drags a hand over his face, rubs his eyes to get rid of the gathering tears before they can do something ridiculous like slide down his face, because _dammit,_ he’s not about to cry at a party, even if it’s partly his own.

            It takes time for his breathing to finally even out, and Mrs. McClain doesn’t speak until she’s sure he won’t start hyperventilating again.

            “What’s going on, querido?” Mrs. McClain asks, and from someone else, Keith might’ve found the question just a little too intrusive, but here, he doesn’t.

            _A lot,_ he wants to say, and doesn’t know where to start. Doesn’t know how to explain that it’s the issue of being praised on getting into a school as expensive as the one he has, with not enough scholarship money to cover the full cost of tuition and food and room and board, and it’s going to be an expensive four years, sure to burn a hole in not only his pocket, but Shiro’s, too. How to explain that so many people celebrating this feat is _suffocating._ How to explain the intense pressures all crushing him at once, the expectations he’s going to inevitably fail to meet. How to explain the fear of abandonment surging up as he imagines Hunk, Shay, and Lance all ditching him on campus for new people, better people—

            “It’s nothing,” Keith whispers.

            Mrs. McClain gives him a pointed look. “You can’t lie to me, Keith. I had seven children, and I know when something’s bothering them. _And_ I know when they’re covering it up.”

            Does he feel guilty for trying to get around this confrontation without spilling a word to Lance’s mother? Maybe—okay, definitely. His shoulders slump, and Mrs. McClain’s expression softens. She doesn’t speak, the silence an invitation for Keith to open up, and hesitantly, he does.

            “I’m…parties are exhausting,” he starts. “Being around so many people…I just wanted some space, you know…”

            And it devolves from there.

            Keith delves into his issues the way he thought he wouldn’t, explaining how he feels crowded by so many people coming up to him to congratulate him on a future he’s not sure he deserves nor thinks he can live up to, explaining the financial strain it’s going to place on his two-person family, explaining how he just needs a little time to himself and he’ll be right as rain.

            He leaves out his abandonment problem.

            He doesn’t think Mrs. McClain needs to hear it; not when she’s broken away from the party to be here to comfort him, and not when her son is one of the people Keith is terrified of losing. He’s not about to incur her wrath on Lance when Lance hasn’t even done anything _wrong,_ when it’s all on Keith for this.

            “Oh, hijo,” Mrs. McClain says. Keith meets her gaze; her eyes are warm, affectionate, and so much like Lance’s. Keith understands at once where his boyfriend’s nurturing attitude has come from. “I’ve put six children through college already. If _they_ could handle it, if I could get _Luis_ through in one piece—”

            Mrs. McClain breaks off with a light laugh, and Keith thinks about Lance’s second-oldest brother, of the four he has. Luis, self-proclaimed mess of the McClain family, single-handedly responsible for most bizarre circumstances Lance has endured over his lifetime, and secretly Lance’s favorite brother—although favorite sibling, undoubtedly, goes to his oldest sister, Emely.

            “You have nothing to worry about, mijo,” Mrs. McClain goes on. She pulls Keith into a hug, and at first, Keith hesitates. Slowly, though, he wraps loose arms around Lance’s mother’s back, as she smooths down his hair. “You deserve this—you’ve worked hard for this. We’re all proud of you, and even if you don’t think so, we know you can get through this.”

            A lump forms in Keith’s throat, something he can’t swallow past. It sits, painfully, and fresh tears sting Keith’s eyes.

            “You don’t have to go through it alone, either,” Mrs. McClain promises. “All of us are here for you _and_ Shiro. We’ll all pitch in if we have to.”

            _All of us._ She must mean the whole McClain family, and the Garretts, and the Holts, and the Belus, and the Alteas. Keith goes numb at the thought of all of them throwing money his and Shiro’s way, for no reason more than to get him the education he’s supposed to attain. The McClain family already put six kids through college—some of them are still _in_ college, and Lance is about to join them.

            Hunk’s mothers both work, and they’ve got Hunk to put through college. Though Matt’s been out of college for years, Pidge will be there in just two years. The Belus have just gotten Rax out of college, and Shay will be starting at Arus with the crew in the fall. And the Alteas, on top of the Holts, have already given too much money to the Keith and Shiro family in the past eight years.

            Keith shudders, and Mrs. McClain’s grip on Keith tightens.

            “Please don’t stress yourself out more by worrying about this,” Mrs. McClain whispers, and Keith wonders just how much Lance has told her, or if Lance has expressed his own concerns for Keith. “You _deserve this,_ mijo. I promise.”

            The cracks in his dam grow. Silent tears slip down Keith’s cheeks, and Keith sniffles.

            “You’re a bright boy, Keith,” Mrs. McClain continues. “Nobody wants to see a future like yours get thrown away, and we’re not going to let it. You just have to give it time. Believe it. Everything will be alright in the end.”

            Keith doesn’t know how long they spend in the empty den, just knows that Mrs. McClain doesn’t let go of him until he’s not shaking so hard, until he’s not sniffling anymore, until he’s sure his eyes are as dry as they can be, until he’s the one that pulls away first, with a whispered, “Thanks, Mom.”

            He processes the words about five seconds after he’s drawn back, when he’s rubbing another hand over his face. He freezes, and peers at Mrs. McClain. The shock he expects isn’t there—her smile is just as warm as her eyes and her hug. She puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes lightly, and everything he’s ever been told by a McClain—how much they love him, how much they accept him, how he’s a part of their family—comes crashing into him all at once.

            Calling Mrs. McClain _Mom_ might have been a slip of the tongue, but he meant it. Means it.

            “Te quiero, mijo,” Mrs. McClain responds, and then releases his shoulder, pats him once, and stands. She glances at the doorway out of the corner of her eye, and a smirk ghosts her lips.

            “You don’t have to rejoin the party right away,” she says, “but it looks like there’s _someone_ who wants to see you right now.”

            She turns away, and starts out of the den. Keith waits; a second or two after she leaves, Lance reveals himself, shuffling out from behind the wall on the other side of the entryway. He stands there for a moment, waiting for permission. Keith nods to him, and that’s when he strides forward.

            Lance settles next to Keith and immediately slings an arm around his shoulder, and Keith leans into him.

            “You alright?” Lance asks quietly, like the partygoers shouting a few rooms over will be able to hear him.

            Keith nods, glances down at his lap. Reaches for Lance’s other hand so he can intertwine their fingers.

            “Yeah,” he answers. “I am now.”

            “I, uh, I didn’t mean to spy,” Lance says, “but I noticed you were gone, and then I noticed my mom was gone, and, ah…just wanted to make sure everything was okay. Guess my mom took care of that.”

            Keith nods. “She did. I see where you get it from.”

            Lance turns to face Keith, finally, and cocks his head.

            “Get what from?”

            Keith, now, faces him, and raises his eyebrows. He purposely looks Lance up and down, cuts his eyes to the protective arm around his shoulder, to their twined fingers.

            “This,” Keith answers. “The way you do comfort, I guess.”

            “Oh, yeah,” Lance laughs lightly, so reminiscent of his mother that it momentarily jars Keith, the similarities it’s taken him almost two years to pick up on. “She taught me well.”

            Movement near the entryway catches Keith’s eye. He turns, just slightly, and notices Mrs. McClain giving an approving nod and walking off to get back to the party. Keith smiles, nestles further into Lance’s side.

            “I guess so,” he says.

            Later, maybe he’ll think more on this, about how many times she’s had to talk one of Lance’s siblings—or probably Lance himself—out of an anxious breakdown, out of a panic attack, out of their own heads. Maybe he’ll wonder how long she’s been waiting for the day she’d need to help Keith, and maybe he’ll wonder if she’s been waiting for a slip of the tongue like the one tonight. Because really, after so long being referred to as one of her sons, after practically making a second home for himself at the McClain residence, after so long _knowing,_ deep down, that he’ll be an official in-law one day…

            It’s only right to call her Mom.

            One of the truest he’s ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> love me some mcclain fam/"keith getting adopted by the mcclain fam" feels
> 
> anyhoo
> 
> see y'all in the next oneshot or the next chapter of squad up or sgd or whatever comes first


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